


unfinished zombie AU with recycled characters

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 07:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: will i continue this? will it sit here doing nothing? who knows





	unfinished zombie AU with recycled characters

The sun shone down harshly overhead. The gravel crunched with each step Scout took. He limped, stumbling slightly. He had sprained his ankle jumping from a wall. Beads of sweat made his brown hair stick to his forehead. He was exhausted; he had been walking down the trail all day. It had been two days since walkers had raided his previous home. He was the only survivor, leaving him to die alone at a later time. Scout didn’t contain anything special: He was tiny, weak, and could barely use a gun properly. He was doomed to die eventually. He wasn’t even sure why he ran from the walkers anymore. It was just making his suffering last even longer. 

 

The gravel path Scout had been following lead to a city. It seemed to be abandoned; aside from the rustling of trees in the wind. Not even the quiet groaning of walkers was audible. Scout thought about how utterly defenseless he was: No gun, no knife, no strength. His ankle ached, and his ears rang loudly. He hadn’t eaten or slept in three days. 

 

The city wasn’t anything special. Just old, worn down buildings with broken windows and graffiti. Whoever bothered spray-painting their initials on brick for fun in the middle of the end of the world sounded like a dick. Despite the pain and tiredness Scout felt, he really had to enjoy the peace of the city. He missed people, but at the same time, he enjoyed being alone. If only he could sleep. 

 

A dog barking suddenly snapped Scout out of his tranquil thoughts. A ferocious-looking black doberman had leapt out of an open garage. Startled, Scout fell backwards, hitting the ground hard. The dog continued running toward Scout, until a harsh yank of a rope caused it to stop inches from the boy.

 

Scout shakily got back to his feet and kept walking. His heart was still pounding in his chest from the experience with the dog. He walked and walked and walked all through the city, but it was just as he had thought: Abandoned. Occasionally, he heard snarls and groans coming from some of the buildings, and did his best to avoid them. By the time he made it to the other end of the city, it was dark outside. He found that a highway ran through the city, so he followed to the other way in the hopes of finding more civilization.

 

If day was peace for Scout, night was terrifying. It wasn’t just the absence of light, or the increased risk of getting attacked by walkers that scared him. Night was when he really,  _ really  _ thought. When there was nothing else for him to do, Scout could only think. He remembered things. Dead things. Alive things. Things that were both. He wondered about his future, and dwelled on the past. Scout wasn’t even thirteen yet, but he still knew things most twelve year olds wouldn’t even consider. He knew his dad killed his mom and then himself. Scout had always considered his dad a saint. Not anymore, though. He knew that when he was eight, his older sister died trying to save him. Well, she wasn’t dead. At least, not at the time. She got bitten. A fate worse than death. 

 

The minutes began blending together. Scout couldn’t remember how long he had been walking, or where he was even going. He walked at a slow pace, his foot still dragging behind him. 

 

And then he heard them. Snarls. Scout tried to speed up, but he could already see them emerging from the forest. It was too dark to see their faces, which Scout was partially grateful for. They weren’t much faster than Scout, but that slight difference was still dangerous. They grew closer and closer. Scout estimated that there were about ten of them. And Scout was completely defenseless. 

 

As if to make his fate worse, Scout tripped on a crack on the road. He hit his head hard enough to cover his vision with spots and make his ears ring. He found himself in a daze for a few moments, and by the time he came to, the walkers were upon him. Scout shrieked as one of them clawed at him. There were eight looming over him, a hungry look residing in their eyes. Scout regretted not killing himself when he had the chance. Now, he was going to be ripped apart, piece by piece. All hopes of ever surviving diminished when one of the walkers bit into the flesh on Scout’s arm. He screamed, writhing under the bodies, but it didn’t help his case. Before he knew it, Scout was sobbing, both from fear and pain. 

 

“Hey!” a voice shouted. There was the loud sound of a gun shooting, and one of the walkers collapsed. The person shot at the dead again and again and again until all of them were on the ground. The person dropped to Scout’s side. Despite the pain coming from his head and his blurring vision, Scout could somewhat make out the face of a boy with tan skin and intense eyes. He was strangely familiar. “Shh, it’s okay,” he said in a comforting tone. Scout winced when the boy lifted him off the ground. Scout couldn’t do much more than whimper weakly, pain and exhaustion both affecting him. “Just focus on your breathing, okay? Don’t go to sleep.” 

 

Scout closed his eyes, curling into the boy. His breaths were uneven and shallow; he was practically hyperventilating. The boy was carded his fingers through Scout’s hair as he ran, to where, Scout had no idea. He was exhausted to the point where he could barely move, but he forced himself to stay awake. He tried to focus on something, anything other than the blood gushing out of his arm. He hadn’t noticed before, but he was sobbing, tears streaming down his face. He focused on his breathing.

 

Inhale.

 

Exhale.

 

Inhale.

 

Exhale.

 

…

 

Inhale.

 

…

 

Exhale.

 

...

 

Inhale.

 

…

 

Exhale.

 

He did this until he could feel the world around him disappearing. The pain coursing through his veins diminished, and he felt like he was floating. His eyes were shut and he couldn’t see anything except for the blobs behind his eyelids that followed the pattern of his breathing. He was forgetting where he was, who he was, what he was doing. 

 

A sharp jerk suddenly pulled Scout into reality. His eyes flew open, and he was back in the strange boy’s arms with a searing pain. “Stay awake, Scout. Please.” Scout was too exhausted to wonder how the boy knew his name. Instead, he let out a small whimper. Time seemed to stretch from second to second. Scout wanted to sleep, but he forced his eyes to stay open.

 

The boy shouted something, but it wasn’t directed at Scout. Scout was too tired to figure out who he was yelling at. Their surroundings changed from dark forest to a walled-in city. The boy kept running, though Scout didn’t have a clue as to where they were. He was too lost in the pain to care. The boy shouted some more, for a girl named “Myra”. It seemed he loved shouting. 

 

Before Scout knew what was really going on, he was thrown down onto a hard surface. A girl, who he assumed was Myra, stood over him, talking to the boy that had brought him. Myra looked angry but the boy looked concerned. Myra disappeared for a few moments, leaving Scout and the boy alone. Scout continued whimpering in pain; his bite was still bleeding.

 

“It’ll be okay, Scout. I promise.” Something about his voice still seemed familiar to Scout, but he wasn’t about to think too hard on it. The boy ran his fingers through Scout’s hair in a comforting manner, though it didn’t help much.

 

Myra returned, holding something silver and sharp. A knife. She looked at the boy standing over Scout, who nodded at her. All Scout could remember happening after that was pain. Pain so bad, his vision turned black, and he let out an ear-splitting shriek. He could vaguely remember the boy standing over him, mumbling comforting words in Scout’s ear as he carded his fingers through Scout’s hair, but all Scout could manage to do was scream. He drifted in and out of consciousness for what felt like hours, until he finally fell asleep for the first time in two nights.

  
  
  


Scout woke up feeling strange. His whole body ached, especially his arm. And then he realized it wasn’t there. Recollection of the previous night flooded his mind. The room in which he sat was dark, and he laid on something cold and hard. He inhaled and opened his mouth to let out a scream of both pain and fear, when a hand clamped down on his mouth.

 

“Scout? Scout, calm down, it’s okay. Okay? Scout?” It was the boy from the previous night. Scout couldn’t see him, but he recognized his voice. He mumbled soothing words as he gradually took his hand away. 

 

“Wren?”

 

“Mhm.” 

 

When his brain wasn’t completely clouded with pain, Scout could think clearly. He knew why the boy had seemed so familiar. He did, in fact, know him. More than just ‘know’ him. Scout wanted to reach out, to hold onto Wren, to never let him go.

 

But, of course, he fell back asleep.

  
  
  


Scout drifted in and out of sleep, for how long, he had no idea. Sometimes, Wren would be leaning over him mumbling something strange to him, and other times Myra would be tending to his wounds. Most of the time, though, he was alone in the darkness. Having Wren back felt strange to him. He hadn’t planned on ever seeing the boy alive ever again.

  
  
  


“You’re being really strong, Scout. I’m very proud of you. You’ve really grown up.” Wren cooed one morning.

 

“Not really.” It was one of the first responses Scout had given to Wren’s constant mumbling.

 

“You’re awake?”

 

“No.”

 

“Haha, very funny.” His attitude lifted. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Like I just got attacked by walkers.”

 

Wren snorted, and continued carding his fingers through Scout’s hair. “Most people don’t survive that, y’know.”

 

Scout didn’t know how to reply to that, but thankfully, he didn’t have to, because the door flew open and a bright light filled the room. “Great, the boy’s awake! Get ‘im outta here, I want my kitchen back!”

 

“Myra-”

  
“Don’t ‘Myra’ me! You’ve overstayed your welcome! Go let him sleep on your counter!” 


End file.
